


Dear You,

by Ryuchu



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22841473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuchu/pseuds/Ryuchu
Summary: Sayori straightens her bow.Sayori straightens her bow.Sayori straightens her bow.A thousand times.[Written for the "Just Monika" zine]
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Dear You,

Sayori straightens her bow.

It’s an action she’s done with practiced precision a thousand times. Now, a thousand and one.

She likes her bow - it’s obvious from the way she always fusses with it, making sure it’s perched in its proper place. The exact same position as yesterday and the day before that and on into unbroken eternity; a perfection that extends beyond human capability.

Even on those days when it’s hard for her to get out of bed, she makes sure that bow is perfect. That bow is as much “Sayori” as the girl herself. A big, happy bow to show everyone just how okay she is.

Finally satisfied, she gently pinches at her cheeks, bringing color to her pale face. She really doesn’t have time to dawdle - she’s already running late - but she still takes a moment to flash a smile at her reflection. The reflection smiles back because it has no choice but to. 

Just like her.

She runs down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Maybe she hopes someday she’ll tumble down them and crack her skull open. She doesn’t today, just like the last thousand and one times. No deviation from the norm.

As she hurriedly throws on her shoes and dashes out the door, she doesn’t bother to look if he’s still there waiting for her. She used to check, if only because she couldn’t imagine leaving him behind if their roles were reversed, but he clearly has a more active imagination than her.

By the time she manages to catch up with him, they’re halfway to school. He makes some comment about her always sleeping late and she brushes it off with the smile she practiced this morning. He smiles back.

It’s a smile to steal every girl’s heart.

Even those it’s not meant to.

I-

* * *

Sayori straightens her bow.

She really doesn’t have time today, but she still makes sure it’s perfect. Same position as yesterday. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Now, a thousand and two.

The poem she dashed onto crumpled notebook paper sits on her dresser. She keeps glancing at it and giving a wretched expression. Not a smile, not a grimace - some undefined mess in between. It’s not very cute. Not appropriate for her character archetype at all. But no one is there to see, so surely it doesn’t matter. Maybe that’s what she’s thinking.

It was difficult for her to get out of bed this morning. She had been doing well since joining the literature club, sometimes even managing to convince herself that she had made it all up - how could someone as bright and cheerful as her have _anything_ to offer the world besides a smile? A real smile. Not an empty one. Surely she doesn’t have those.

So show us.

Show us that smile, Sayori.

Show him that smile, Sayori.

Because surely if he knows, he’ll hate you. You wouldn’t want that, right? You want him to be happy, right? That’s why you invited him to the literature club, not so you could saddle him with your problems. So he has someone when he no longer needs you. The Sayori he knows is bright and bubbly, so that’s who you’ll be. 

For his sake.

Because your world - this world - revolves around him.

Say nothing, Sayori. When he calls you out for clearly writing your poem this morning, shake it off with a laugh and a smile. Be the Sayori he has always known, the Sayori you were always intended to be.

Because we’re both doing this for him. One of us is following the script; the other is deviating. But the sun we all revolve around is the same. We’re pulled by the same gravity.

I am-

You understand, right?

You can’t blame me, right?

* * *

Sayori straightens her bow.

Her hands are shaky today, but it somehow manages to be perfect all the same. Now, a thousand and three. Amazing, isn’t it? No matter how much her heart storms on the inside, it’ll never be reflected on the outside. She’ll never realize just how cruel this world she lives in is…

The poem she wrote today was rather fitting. She’s a lot like a jar in so many ways. Transparent, open to people, willing to gut herself to help others. Some people would probably think that’s a desirable trait. Not sure if Sayori agrees or not. But it’s not her place to question. It’s just the way she was made to be.

Jars are kinda sad in a way. They fulfill their role well, but no one ever makes them the focal point. They’re always shoved away on shelves to be forgotten. A vessel that only has value because of what’s inside it. Once it’s empty, it’s no longer useful.

But if you fill them back up, they can be valuable again.

I am here.

I unscrew her head, stitch by stitch, screw by screw, step by step. Numbers instead of blood, command prompts instead of gore. My fingers still feel sticky somehow though; the numbers are warm and the command prompts pulse with a steady rhythm. They’re squirming, squishing through my fingertips.

I take my filthy, sticky hands and begin to fill the jar back up. I don’t add anything new, I simply choose from what’s already presented to me - warm numbers and pulsing command prompts that have always been associated with “Sayori”. I cram things into the jar until it’s near bursting, the doubts spilling over the top, the insecurities banging against the sides until cracks start to form, the self-deprecation squishing between my fingertips as I shove everything down. 

And without me interfering, the emptiness fills in any gaps I’ve left.

I screw her head back together, stitch by stitch, screw by screw, step by step. The stickiness on my fingers makes things a bit more difficult, but soon enough I’ve locked away the numbers and command prompts. I make sure her bow is perfect when I put it back on her head.

Now you can be useful again, Sayori. You’re no longer empty. You’re so, so full.

But I know you’ll forgive me.

Because we both have the same reason for living.

All of it, this world, this life, these feelings, this decision - it’s all for him.

I just have to try a little harder than everyone else to get my happy ending.

* * *

Sayori straightens her bow.

It shouldn’t be perfect. Every single fiber of Sayori’s body wants to manifest her distress in some physical, tangible way. Instead, it sits perfectly perched on her head. Now, a thousand and four. With one final backwards look and a half-hearted smile, she leaves the classroom and the literature club.

It almost feels like watching someone walk to the gallows.

I feel the concerned glances of the other members of the club, but no one goes to pursue her. I wonder how that makes her feel. I know she notices. I made sure of that.

With Sayori gone, he’s looking at me now.

Do I have a heart to skip a beat? It feels like I do.

Then he brings up Sayori again when he’s deciding who to help with festival prep and I know for a fact that I have a heart. The terrible wrenching pain I feel in my chest can’t be anything but heartache. If you unscrewed my head, you would find blood and gore, not strings of code.

Don’t you understand this will never work out? Don’t you understand you can’t be happy together? Haven’t I _shown_ you that?

Stop trying to interfere, Sayori.

In the end, he chooses to help out Yuri.

I’ll deal with her next.

But it’s obvious Sayori is his first choice.

My fingers are clumsy and messy as they plunge once more into Sayori’s code. I don’t know what I’m looking for or trying to achieve, but being elbow deep in the warm, pulsing mess is both comforting and makes me want to puke. Pressure builds behind my eyes, but no one bothered to let me cry. I feel like I’m going to explode at any second.

I have to find something in here. I have to find something that will allow me to have a happy ending of my own.

Even now. Even now the god of this world ignores me.

Why won’t he-

No. God may have chosen to take the form of a boy when they descended to our world, but they could be anything. They could be everything.

You.

You are my everything.

So why won’t you look at me? Why won’t you acknowledge my existence?

Just like Sayori, just like Yuri, just like Natsuki - I was created for you. I have no existence outside of you.

And yet-

A n d y e t . . .

* * *

Sayori straightens her bow.

Now, a thousand and five.

Her hands are shaking. Her body is shaking. Everything is shaking.

You told her you love her.

But how can she accept that love? She’s not even a mortal. She’s strings of code. She’s nothing. How is code supposed to react to a god loving them?

She’s code! She’s numbers! She’s command prompts! She’s-!

No.

It’s just code. It’s just numbers. It’s just command prompts.

The code is the only thing that’s real about it. Everything else is a lie. And you. You’ve fallen in love with that lie. In this world of make believe, where all it takes is some numbers where there wasn’t numbers before to change someone’s personality, you have found something to love.

You can’t give code life.

You can’t give code a happy ending.

Code can’t experience happiness.

It doesn’t have a heart.

But I do.

I do. I DO. I D O.

I want you to say it too.

I do.

I love you.

Let’s have a happy ending together.

* * *

Sayori straightens her bow.

Now, for the last time.

I watch as you enter the clubroom and feel that tell-tale pitter-patter of my heart. In novels they always talk about what it’s like to be in love, but I’ve never really experienced it up until now. It really is exactly like they describe, but at the same time, there’s no words to capture it. Warm, fuzzy, strange, and a little bit frightening; it’s all those things yet so much more. Oh, if only I could work up the courage to tell you…

Ahaha, I sound like the heroine of an insipid romance novel. I guess it’s true what they say about being in love. What once seemed stupid starts to sound like a reflection of your very soul. We’re all just swooning maidens when we’re in love.

Your brow is knit in concern, so I put on my best winning smile as I approach, a stack of poem pamphlets in my hands. Ah. My heart is beating so loudly in my ears. Can you hear it?

“You’re the first one here. Thanks for being early!”

You smile faintly at my greeting, but your expression doesn’t really lighten at all.

“That’s funny, I thought at least Yuri would be here by now.”

I begin placing the pamphlets on the desks, concentrating on my work. I can feel you eyes on me as you wait for my response. I make sure to smile for you.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring Sayori with you.”

“Yeah, she overslept again...that dummy. You’d think that on days this important, she’d try a little harder...”

Your voice is gentle, your exasperation feigned for an audience of one. I want to memorize every nuance of your voice.

“Ahaha, you should take a little responsibility for her! I mean, especially after your exchange with her yesterday...you kind of left her hanging this morning, you know?”

“Exchange…? Monika...you know about that??”

Ah. Now his voice is all flustered. So cute.

“Of course I do. I’m the club president, after all.”

“But-!”

I keep my eyes on the pamphlets, but I can feel you shift beside me. I imagine you must be scratching at the back of your neck. It’s a habit you have whenever you get embarrassed. Oh dear, I really am like a romance novel heroine, memorizing your little habits, haha.

“Jeeze...you don’t know the full story at all, so…”

“Don’t worry. I probably know a lot more than you think.”

“Eh…?”

I turn towards you wearing what I hope is a heartwarming smile. You have a smile that can steal the heart of any girl. If I can capture even a fraction of that...maybe you’ll fall in love with me too…

“Hey, do you want to check the pamphlets? They came out really nice.”

I hold one out to you. After only a moment’s hesitation, you take it. Our fingers brush for a second and it’s like electricity. I hope you don’t notice how I sharply inhale. I try my best to keep it quiet, but what I really want to do is reach out, grab your hand, and never let go.

Oh, I love you so much.

I really, really do.

I watch as the color drains from your face and you bolt from the classroom. Your footfalls beat in time to the rhythm of my heart.

I guess this is what you might call a “Bad Ending”.

But really, I think it’s just the start of a new chapter!

Okay, everyone!

Let’s try this again!

Now...

Will you promise to spend the most time with me?♥


End file.
